Pensacola, Florida

The windows are down, sunroof open, salty-cold breeze buffeting from every direction as I slice through the silver-amethyst of 5 a.m. in Perdido Key, Fla.

One bridge, two bridges, three bridges. I’m free falling through the fine art of getting lost, and I could care less. I’ll reach my destination eventually, but for the moment I’m blasting Green Day on the stereo as loud as it will go, singing along just for the hell of it.

Holiday. Fitting. I’m sort of on holiday myself.

Spraying gravel across a Waffle House parking lot, I execute a three-point turn minus the points. That’s where I’m going — Zeke’s Landing.

The air is cold and still, such a stark comparison to the wild wind and noise — the 20-minute drive that was supposed to take twice as long. No one is here yet.

I smile as my boots clatter on the faded wharf with a strong thwack, thwack, thwack. Pity the poor fellow who’s still in bed — I imagine it sounds as if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have arrived.

I lost my heart
under the bridge
to that little girl
so much to me.

I consider softening my steps, then think better of it.

I didn’t come here to tiptoe. I came here to kick ass.

Another city, another story for Christian Science Monitor, “Remembering the ‘Mighty O.'” The joining of two loves. The integration of heart and soul.

That blue-eyed girl
she said no more
that blue-eyed girl
became blue-eyed — 

The stakes are high. Always were.

Impatiently, I pace the dock, whacking the Timberlands extra hard against a few inner demons. My head is as clear as the gathering dawn, white-hot light slicing through fog.

Down by the water
I took her hand…

It should be a good day. The sun is rising, the seas are calm, and I can’t think of anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.

Music: Down by the Water by PJ Harvey (lyrics)

Posted on May 18, 2006 by Carmen K. Sisson tagged boats, Florida, Pensacola, water, writing